


Pompeii

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Apocalypse, Hospitals, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Surgery, The Biggest Most Awful Most Tragic Event in Human History (Dangan Ronpa)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nagito smiles ear to ear.“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Kudos: 37





	Pompeii

**Author's Note:**

> this is REALLY. a lot of rambling. it makes no sense canon-wise, i just got kinda bored and wanted to play around, interpret it how you want, it probably doesn’t make much sense? idk

“Oh,” He warbles, voice pitching up at the end. “Look at you.” 

He shakes with adoration, fingers wrapping around the bandages inhibiting Hajime’s right wrist. 

“So beautiful,” He damn near whines, teeth biting his lip so hard he draws blood. “So pure. It looks so much better on you.” 

Hajime isn’t fully aware yet of what’s happening, but something hurts. 

His arm.   
No, his hand. 

Or rather, the lack thereof. 

It doesn’t feel right. He can’t move that side. Nagito’s holding his hand and he can’t feel it. 

He’s in a hospital room, tinted red from whatever light is pouring through the curtains. It stains everything darkly and makes the room feel hot. 

He’s not sure how he got here. 

It’s not until he sees the fake red fingernails jutting around the bandages does he finally put things together.

“You-“ He chokes out, voice raspy. Everything feels fuzzy. The room starts to spin and he can only choke out a few more words before he gags. 

Oh God. 

The Remnants. The experiment. 

Junko. 

“It’s her hand, isn’t it?” 

Nagito somehow smiles even wider.   
He pulls his hand out of his pocket and laces their fingers together.

Their fingers that aren’t theirs. That don’t move. That are slowly decaying and filling their bodies with rot and disease and infection. 

Junko’s hands hold each other coldly. Never meant to in this way, but forced to as living pieces of a doll. 

“Why?” Hajime’s voice begins to shake, begins to become clearer as he starts to panic. He’s strapped into the hospital bed he lies in, as if the struggle he’s thinking about was already thought of. 

“Why?” Nagito echoes, his own voice shaking with glee. “We’re together forever now, Hinata-kun. You and I...” He trails off, eyes so full and shining and nearly brimming with tears. 

“We’re soulmates.” 

Hajime cries first. Silent, wobbly tears that find their way down his face before he even knows what’s happening. 

“We share the same despair, and the same goal of finding hope,” Nagito continues, but his words don’t make any sense. 

“When you were Kamakura, I knew I had to put you on lock so you could never leave me, but I never figured this would happen.” 

He rambles on, and Hajime tries to put his head back together in order to figure out two things:

1\. WHERE his hand went  
2\. How he could get it back on

The only thing he can feel is the pain of the rest of his arm, uncomfortably scraping up against the unevenly cut bone of Junko’s hand so neatly sewn onto him. 

It’s dull. He must be on some sort of drug. Either way he can feel the coldness of the limb attached to him starting to seep into the rest of his body. 

Nagito pulls Hajime’s hand closer to his lips and purrs into the cold fingertips like he’d somehow be able to warm them back to life.   
Worshipping him. 

Worshipping her. Forcing her to live through him. 

Hajime jerks his arm away and leans over the side of the hospital bed to vomit. 

He rips the IV out of his vein as he does it, and feels blood start to pool down his good arm.   
Nagito clicks his tongue in slight annoyance. 

“For someone once known as the ultimate hope, you’re not taking this as well as I thought.” 

Hajime pauses. He spits onto the floor and cringes.  
“The ultimate what?”

It’s quiet for a moment. The air conditioning rattles. 

“Oh,” Nagito says softly. “I guess you don’t remember everything.” 

Hajime turns back over and watches Nagito-who, now that he’s gotten a good look at, has significantly gotten thinner, which is a feat for someone of his already lanky stature-pull the blinds back on the window adjacent to his bed. 

Outside, the sky is red. 

“I suppose it was a good thing they turned you back to normal,” Nagito says with a sigh, as if this actually wasn’t a good thing. 

“You didn’t have to witness most of this while you were under. Lucky you.” 

He shakes his head.   
“Maybe your luck is starting to outstrip mine, no? I can’t believe you survived.” 

He turns back around, leaving the blinds open. Outside looks desolate, from what Hajime can see, but his view is quickly covered by a head of white hair. 

“What do you say we go home, Hinata-kun?” Nagito says lightly.   
“I mean, you’ve already made quite a mess of yourself, I don’t think the housekeeping will be particularly thrilled.” 

He’s suddenly cold, eyes downcast at the boy beside him. 

“What?” Hajime asks, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden change of atmosphere. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit afraid.

Nagito shakes his head, a smile returning to his face. 

“Ah, nothing. I was just thinking about you. Before this. You might want to check out a mirror or something.” 

His hand presses a button above Hajime’s head, and an alarm akin to a siren begin to sound around them, down the hall, through the whole building. 

“Well, I suppose we should be going,” He says calmly, signaling Hajime to get up. 

He does, albeit a bit unstable, but manages to stand on both feet without feeling completely dizzy. 

Nagito kisses his cheek.   
“I missed you,” He says tenderly, and in that moment you’d think they were actually lovers, partners in crime or something like that. 

And then he kicks the window open, letting in the sounds of chaos from outside as if this is their only escape route. 

“But I liked you better with long hair.”


End file.
